


And I Just Got Broken, Broken Into Two

by Velocity_Owl87



Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Always a Different Sex, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Gender Changes, Angst, Captain America: The Winter Soldier Spoilers, F/M, Grief/Mourning, Hopeful Ending, Marriage, Mindwiping, Recovery, Repressed Memories
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-28
Updated: 2014-05-28
Packaged: 2018-01-26 20:50:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,984
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1702091
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Velocity_Owl87/pseuds/Velocity_Owl87
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve Rogers lost his wife in the Alps in 1942. </p><p>At least, that was what he thought. </p><p>Until the Winter Soldier showed up just as SHIELD crumpled and now, he's going after her and hoping that despite everything, he can one day get his wife back.</p>
            </blockquote>





	And I Just Got Broken, Broken Into Two

**Author's Note:**

> No clue why I wrote this one, only that I wanted to play with this possibility for awhile and I also needed something bittersweet in regards to these two. 
> 
> Title from Coldplay's "Magic". Proofed, but if there are mistakes, they will be fixed.

_“What was she to you really, Steve? Do you even know yourself?”_

Natasha’s words echoed and reechoed in his head as he hefted the file he held in his hand. Stained and covered in Cyrillic, it was held together by a metal clip now, rather than the frayed red thread that held the secrets contained in it for almost half a century. He stared at it, his nails digging into the cracked poster board that held on with surprising tenacity and asked himself the same question. What exactly did Josephine Buchanan Barnes mean to him?

He closed his eyes briefly as the answer came to him within a split second of him asking it:

_“Everything.”_

He hated at how cliche it sounded, but it was so true. The world had been worse off without her in it. She had been his childhood friend. She had been his wife.

His hands clenched around the file as memories flooded his mind: The impulsive wedding of theirs in a blackened and damaged courthouse on a rare furlough between missions. It was as much for practicality as for love that it was done. Bucky was in the Army Corps and should have been away from the fighting. But Steve couldn’t let her go. Not when she was his right hand in missions. She was a crack shot and as much of an impact on the team as Gabe or Jim or Duggan and Peggy.

One way of keeping her there was to get married and trust that his clout and Peggy putting in a good word would be enough until the Red Skull was defeated.

It was enough. At least for awhile. He still recalled her face under the borrowed veil and how her dark blue eyes had crinkled at the corners when he leaned in to lift it and kiss her. How her body felt in the musty hotel bed. How she had felt, with his body curled up behind her and the scent of her hair in his nose.

Those were some of the memories that assaulted him when he sat in that bombed out pub when Peggy came to get him.

Bucky was gone and life was never going to be the same for him ever again.

Even having Peggy, the rest of the Commandos and Howard...It hadn’t ever quite filled the void that Bucky had left behind. He had felt so torn open, so hollow when it sunk in that he had failed her, she was gone, her hand just mere centimetres away from his as she had plunged to her death in the Alps.

He hadn’t really slept after she had died. He hadn’t really enjoyed anything after she was gone. He hadn’t ever really lived a day without her. Bucky had always been there, either beside him or on the periphery of his life. She was gone and only the ghost of her remained as cold comfort to him. The fading scent of her perfume and the bobby pins scattered in the bottom of his pack, the scarf her mother had given her...Those were the only things he had of her now. They weren’t enough. They never would be.

He sketched her, filled up the last sketchbook he had of drawings of her until the last mission and it still didn’t help to ease the dull agony of her loss. In fact, it exacerbated it. But he had to stop the madness of the Red Skull. He had to push it all away and keep on going, because he was Captain America. That was all.

When the choice to go down with the plan came up, he took it without hesitation. He had to save the world. There was no question about it. But he also knew that he was doing it so he could see her again. They hadn’t ever lived without each other.

He wasn’t about to start now.

And when the plane went under the water and into the ice, he closed his eyes gratefully and waited to see her again.

The darkness though, was the one that came first.

~*~*~*~*~

Steve had no time to regroup and grieve. Not only did he have to adjust to the modern world that he and Bucky could have only dreamed of at the Stark Expo, he had to deal with an alien invasion and working together with such disparate personalities.

He did what he always had done: He put his personal turmoil aside and got to work. It wasn’t until he was sitting in a half-destroyed shawarma restaurant and barely awake once the adrenaline had worn off that the old pain came back again with a vengeance. He sighed and pushed his nearly finished shawarma away and tried to push the sorrow back. He figured that the warmth of camaraderie after nearly being annihilated was the reason why he felt that way and he had caught himself looking to the side to catch Bucky’s eyes only to remember that it wasn’t the war and she had been dead for far too long.

He rubbed his face and tried to rein in his emotions. Looking around the table told him that he had succeeded and he relaxed a fraction. At least until he caught Thor looking at him with a thoughtful look on his face. Steve expected him to say something, but all he did was give him a sympathetic smile before he turned to look at Tony, who was asking something or other. Steve then found himself wishing, despite himself that Thor had asked about his grief. But the other part of him was glad that Tony had interrupted. He didn’t think he was ready to talk about her just yet.Even if he needed to, just to make her more real rather than a faded memory that he was afraid she was starting to become.

They left after that, to their own separate duties and Steve was back in Brooklyn with some Glenn Miller on the turntable and one of his sketchbooks in his hands. He wished he could drink as he flipped through those yellowing pages and traced the curve of Bucky’s cheek, smudging the pencil lines as he did so.

He sighed and closed the book, carefully putting it on the shelf.

That night, he dreamt of her and the memory of her perfume lingered in the air even after he had completely woken up.

It wasn’t going to be a good day.

~*~*~*~*

He couldn’t believe it when he finally saw her face. After the accidents and explosions and the cryptic hints and allegations from Natasha...The shock of seeing her face had nearly undone him. It was Bucky, yet it wasn’t. A murderous, cold and empty version of the fiercely independent woman he had grown up with and eventually married.

He didn’t really care. She wasn’t dead. She was finally here and even though it hurt to have to fight her and to see the blankness in her eyes as they struggled, she was alive. In the moment that it took for her to throw a punch that would have surely cracked his cheekbone and instead dinged his shield, Steve had made up his mind. It didn’t matter how long it would take. He would get his Bucky back even if he had to tear Hydra apart from inside out to do so.

In the end, he did.

But she disappeared after the Helicarrier landed in the Potomac and she had left him on the shore. He had nothing to go on, despite Sam and Natasha’s string pulling and he needed to heal. So he mostly waited impatiently and found himself drawing this new version of Bucky he never thought he’d ever see.

Bucky had always taken great pride in her appearance, learning how to do those complicated rolls and putting on kohl and lipstick. Her skin always had a warm glow and her dark blue eyes had always sparkled with life. Her nails were impeccable and even her sniper’s uniform always seemed to be pressed, despite both of them knowing full well that wasn’t always the case.

Her hair now was lank and past her shoulders in oily clumps. The BDU’s were serviceable, but only just. Her skin had the pallor of someone that didn’t see the sun often enough and her lips were dry and cracked. There were dark circles under her eyes that were so dark he mistook them for paint the last time he had seen her. Overall, she looked as if she were living on the razor edge of civility and could go either way at any moment.

The only thing that was in great condition was the cybernetic arm with the red star stencilled on it. He supposed it had to be, since she could pack a punch that he had seen fell lesser men. She was a far cry from the Bucky he had known. But she was still Bucky. He still wanted her to come back to him.

Sam was a godsend, keeping him grounded as his hopes lag. Despite the folder, despite the numerous clues they have been given, she was a ghost. Even with the footage of her standing in front of the Commando display in their hands, she was nowhere to be seen.

Steve had to admit that he was getting despondent and he had to ask himself whether it was better to just admit defeat. They’ve been on her trail for almost four months when they end up having to take on a mission against a splinter cell of Hydra.

They’re outnumbered and Steve did ask himself exactly how much damage he was going to take out of the situation when their adversaries started falling. One by one, they were picked off with preciseness he knew from only one person. She was here.

Yet he made no move to follow her. Or force her into doing anything she didn’t want to.

But it was hard to pretend he didn’t know she was following them. From Srebrenica, to Lilles, to Liverpool and then New York. Steve was damned aware of her being just a flight behind them. But still, he didn’t lift a finger. The ball was in her court.

~*~*~*~*

She came two weeks later, appearing in his living room like the ghost and myth she seemed to be. He did startle when he came into the room and found her sitting in the same armchair where he had last seen Nick Fury. Except that she was perfectly straight, her legs crossed and making her look incongruous in her battered jeans, stained hoodie and mud-splattered shoes. There was a small bag at her feet. Much too small for a gun or any weapon. But Steve didn’t relax his wariness. She was an assassin. An assassin, he could see, that was confused and cracked and unsure of her position or objective.

He didn’t enter the living room and instead, stood at the door, watching her as he finally raised her head and looked at him with the barest hint of the expression she had always had for him.

“Oh Bucky!” He breathed out, making her stand up in a fluid motion before she pushed her hood off and looked at him. She attempted a smile, but only a corner of her mouth moved.

“I know you.”

Steve nodded and moved slowly into the room.

“As I know you.”

She nodded, her gaze turned inward as she analyzed the words.

“I know you.” She repeated, the silent query and confusion all too clear in her voice as she spoke.

Steve wanted to scream in impatience, but didn’t.

Instead, he offered his hand to her.

“There’s food in the kitchen. Do you want some?”

She nodded and although he was disappointed, he hid it well.

It wasn’t what he had hoped for, but it was better than nothing.


End file.
